The Sun Will Shine Again
by Eve-the-Charlotte
Summary: "Roberto DaCosta stared at the ceiling while the digital clock on his nightstand read three in the morning..."  Roberto-centric.  Pretty angst-y.  Rated M for a reason, too.


_The Sun Will Shine Again_ by _Eve-the-Charlotte_

Pairings: Mentioned Todd/Scott, Jamie/Rahne, Hank/Bobby, Ray/Alex, and Roberto/Sam/Pietro triangle.

Disclaimer: Nothing to see here, Officer. I don't own anything but the plot line.

Set in Witchblood-universe, but not an official, going-down-the-character-list one-shot. Mostly because this is M-rated, and the numbered one-shots are not going to be rated any higher than T. Also, I'm not that familiar with Brazilian culture, but this isn't a judgment of it, merely Roberto's perspective due to the type of family he grew up in, which isn't meant to be representative of ordinary Brazilian families.

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Roberto DaCosta stared at the ceiling while the digital clock on his nightstand read three in the morning. Ray's soft snoring filled the quiet like white noise, which was a good thing, since Roberto couldn't think in the absence of sound, never could. He couldn't sleep, not with everything going to hell around him, with all those venomous glares people kept shooting at him. So what if he freaked out and swore in Portuguese at Summers the Elder and that Toad guy? It was disgusting how the Brotherhood guy's slimy tongue probing the Oh So Fearless Leader's mouth like it contained something sweeter than the honeysuckle that grew in his family's garden back in Rio. So what if he stormed through the mansion yelling about it at the top of his lungs and into the Professor's study? So what if the Professor and the rest of the Institute were angry with him? How was he supposed to know that Scott would get so depressed and hide in the showers for hours, with freezing water pouring over his body? That the guy would then try to drown himself in the bathtub? That Summers had so fucked up a childhood that Roberto's comments could send him spiraling into such self-loathing that the guy wanted to die? It wasn't his fault, damnit!

Why couldn't Summers and Toad keep it private, behind bedroom walls like his _pai_ did with his male lovers? It was shameful! In public, men had to be attracted to women, or at least pretend to, because they weren't men otherwise. Men weren't allowed to love other men in a non-platonic sense; men weren't allowed to like fashion and wear pink; men weren't allowed to let their emotions overcome them; men weren't allowed to need comfort and to be able to cry. That was all for women, like his _mãe _and his _tias_, who in turn weren't allowed to love other women in a non-platonic sense; women weren't allowed to like fighting and getting dirty; women weren't allowed to have careers; women weren't allowed to be stronger than men and to be completely self-reliant. In some ways, the unwritten rules were sickening, when his _mãe_ spent a night out with the girls and came back home clueless to the fact that her husband had defiled their marriage bed with one of his many lovers, some male and some female, and when his _Tia _Asunción was no longer allowed to visit since she divorced her adulterous husband and began to focus on finishing the university studies she had abandoned when she had gotten married.

But the rules were the rules, and Roberto followed them to a T, which wasn't hard at first. After all, he was the Hot Foreign Guy when he first came to the Xavier Institute, with a sultry accent and nothing on his mind except women, well, one woman in particular. Yes, Rahne Sinclair was Roberto's first love, with her cute Scottish accent and those emeralds she called eyes. Despite all the flirting, though, a relationship with the gorgeous Scotswoman was not to be, as her own love began to mature with the young James Madrox. Honestly, once Roberto had seen the way Rahne looked at the younger guy, with such adoration as Madrox finally threw out the hair dye and contacts, letting jet black hair and glacial blue eyes show, that Roberto did not mind that he had lost the competition for Rahne's heart. Unfortunately, while Roberto was fine with Rahne finding love with someone else, the Brazilian was falling into lust with Madrox, among others. Roberto never wanted to become his father, with all the secrecy and lies. Loving women and women alone came naturally to Roberto, at least until he saw Bobby making friends with his right hand.

It was not really any special day that the incident occurred. It was a rainy Tuesday, with the rain only because the grass was beginning to look a tad browner than green. Of course, the weather put Roberto in a bad mood, since his mutant powers thrived on sunlight, which was conspicuously absent that day. Also, since everyone still in high school now took classes at the Xavier Institute, the homework had been piled on with no end in sight, since his new teachers expected them to excel even more now that they _lived_ at school. And physics was kicking Roberto's ass, if you can excuse his language, same with English. How were supposed to learn how to write a research paper properly when you couldn't get past your teacher's thick Australian accent. At least it was just the material that was killing Roberto's grades in physics! Worse, a Danger Room had been scheduled at five AM that day, which ended in Roberto getting a few bruises and a burn from the new guy, Summers the Younger, missing the robot and hitting the Brazilian on the backside instead. So, with a world-weary sigh, Roberto just entered the showers to wash off the day's grime before taking an hour nap and _then_ tackling the mountain of physics problems that awaited him. Instead, Roberto got an eyeful of something else _entirely_. Drake hadn't bothered pulling the shower curtain so that it covered him, probably because of the hot shower and his ice powers, so the Brazilian got to view the show. And all Roberto could focus on was how the muscles in his shoulders tensed, how his thighs quivered, how his breathing came in harsh pants, how his back bowed, and how his very being fell apart when orgasmed. Roberto couldn't shake the image of Drake's lust-blown brown eyes in the reflection of the semi-opaque shower wall and that deep, masculine groan that petered out into a sharp whine of "Hank!" And then Roberto bolted before Drake came out of his post-coital haze, because the guy just had sex with himself. And Roberto had enjoyed the performance.

After that, everything went downhill. Roberto's waking moments became filled with at first images of Bobby's naked form, and then with the images of the other New Recruits at the Institute. An experimental masturbation concluded that Summers the Elder did nothing for Roberto, mostly because of his height advantage over the Brazilian; that Nightcrawler resembled too closely a demon for Roberto's taste; that Daniels would be too forceful; that the Professor was just _não_; that Wolverine was too feral; that Worthington would be too demanding; and that Beast was too _beastly_ for enjoyment. However, Guthrie's awkward nature led Roberto to ignore the even larger height difference and imagine the shy farm guy to easily submit in bed, with stormy blue-gray eyes wide and blonde mullet damp with sweat. And Roberto wouldn't have minded bending over for Ray, because his hair was awesome and Ray's sharp electric blue eyes would be just too out of character if not viewed from on his tanned back. Summers the Younger wouldn't be a bad catch either, with his obviously submissive nature and sun-kissed skin that just begged to be tasted. Madrox would be great, especially if Rahne came along too, with their combined hair in a swirl of cinnamon red and obsidian black, with a pair of emerald eyes and a pair of glacier eyes staring at him, both sets darkened with lust. And Bobby would lead the show, with those lust-blown brown eyes, pouty lips that could be put to _better_ use than just talking, and silky-looking pecan tresses that would be fun to tug during a romp.

However, just because Roberto began to fall into lust with boys didn't mean he still didn't fantasize about ladies. In fact, his boy fantasies seemed to spur his hormones about girls into overdrive. He could see himself bending Jubilee over a desk, with her already dark eyes turned black with passion and gorgeous beige skin turning pink from the heat within. He could see Amara's darker skin become even darker with love-bites and those dark curls around her nether regions becoming slick with sweat and _other_ things. Roberto could see Tabitha riding him hard, perky breasts bouncing to the ancient carnal rhythm they'd recreate and aquamarine eyes flashing with lust. However, there were a few women Roberto didn't fantasize about: Jean, for her bossy nature; Kitty, for her possessive on-and-off boyfriend and overprotective best friend with a demonic appearance; Rogue, for even his fantasies couldn't help but take into account her deadly power; Ms. Munroe, for Roberto had too much respect to _ever_ think of her in such positions; Dani Moonstar, for her frightening ability; and X-23, or Laura, for her far too feral side. These fantasies proved to Roberto that he wasn't queer; he was just appreciating beauty in both genders. Then his fantasies became his obsession, and that's when things really began falling apart. It was around the time that Summers the Younger and Ray had begun dating. Roberto was horrified. They were both _men_; how could they-they cuddle and hold hands and _kiss_, without shame or regret? Roberto couldn't fathom it. That was around the time _he_ stepped into the picture.

_He _was Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver, speed demon extraordinaire, with his silvery white hair, large sapphire eyes, and a body that was _made_ for sex. Roberto couldn't help himself; he was a moth drawn to _his_ flame, so helpless was the Brazilian to resist. And Roberto _knew_ that Guthrie wanted the speed demon too, but Roberto also knew that Guthrie wouldn't move fast enough to stop the Brazilian. Roberto betrayed his morals entirely, abandoned the unwritten rules, and done the unthinkable; Roberto DaCosta asked Pietro Maximoff to be his boyfriend. The silver-haired guy merely looked at him with an unreadable expression, mulling over Roberto's proposal and said, "All right, Roberto, so what do we do now?" Roberto then set down the ground rules, the rules his _pai_ and the man's lovers followed, immediately: no holding hands, no cuddling in public, no kissing in public, and no telling anyone about their relationship. Roberto watched the speed demon frown, the sapphires the guy called eyes dim, before he accepted Roberto's terms. Those three months were the worst and best three months of Roberto's life. Every time he and Pietro hung out, all Roberto could feel were eyes, eyes of his family and his teammates and his friends, judging him, thinking him unclean. Yet Roberto could get no greater high than kissing Pietro, running his tanned hands down pale, downy soft skin clothing steel-like muscles. Roberto asked for sex at the second month mark; Pietro said no.

Thus began the beginning of the end of Roberto's relationship with the speed demon. Roberto's insistence that they finally fuck made Pietro withdraw; and Pietro's little idiosyncrasies, like his OCD cleaning of his room and insistence that Roberto wash his hands before they touched, drove Roberto up the proverbial wall. Wearing down their relationship even more was the coming out of Drake and Beast, causing Roberto to unleash upon Pietro his tidal wave of disgust over the issue, causing a further dimming of the speed demon's eyes and a further retraction of Pietro from Roberto's life. However, the final nail in the coffin was when Pietro found Roberto's private sketch pad, where he doodled not _just_ what he'd like them to do, but what Roberto had fantasized doing to others. Pietro gave him a thousand-mile stare, as though he could no longer see the Brazilian, closed the sketch pad, and simply walked away with tear cascading down his deathly white face. Roberto could hear the whoosh of the speedster's run and knew that he'd find the guy in Guthrie's room, since the two had been close before Roberto had stolen Pietro from the hick. The magnitude of what had occurred hit Roberto like a tidal wave; he ran as quickly as possible to the nearest bathroom, stuck his head in the toilet, and vomited. As the toilet flushed and Roberto laid his now flushed cheek on the side of the porcelain bowl, the Brazilian knew he had gone too far, and he wasn't sure how to get back to normality.

That was two days ago, and now, as Roberto lay awake at four in the morning, with Ray softly snoring in the bed next to his, the Brazilian cried for the first time since he was a child. The alien feeling of liquid pouring freely down his dark cheeks was cathartic. Roberto could now focus. He'd beg for forgiveness, shout to the world how wrong, how vile, and how stupid he had been, and hope his family forgave him. Since now that Roberto could think clearly, he realized that the people at the Xavier Institute, they were his family now. They weren't the people who shrieked in terror when, after collapsing during a football game, they saw him wake up and stand in the balcony of his childhood bedroom, his body transforming as the rays of the sun hit it. They weren't the people who called him a monster, a demon, a freak, all those horrible names that Roberto had believed himself to be at the time. They weren't the people who sent him away because they were too disgusted to be anywhere near him. They weren't the people who had not attempted to contact him since dropping him off in another country. Everyone at the Xavier Institute, at the very least, cared that he was alive. And Roberto was so grateful for that. He was grateful for Ray, who let him into their room even though Roberto hadn't deserved it and probably causing a huge fight between the guy and his boyfriend, whose title Roberto could finally say without revulsion. He was grateful for Pietro, who had at least given him a chance even though he wasn't worth it. He was grateful for Sam Guthrie, who would pick up the pieces of Pietro's heart that Roberto had unmercifully broken. He was grateful for Rahne, who lit up his world by being his friend, even when he was a horrible person. He was grateful for Jamie Madrox, who made Rahne so, _so_ happy. He was grateful for Scott Summers, who made sure each and every one of his teammates was safe and tried so hard to lead them all on the straight and narrow. He was even grateful for Todd Tolansky, who gave Scott a reason to wake up in the morning. For once since gaining his abilities and being shipped off to America, Roberto DaCosta felt grateful, for it was the prejudice his parents had, their narrow-minded ways, that allowed Roberto to have a true family.

At four-thirty in the morning, Roberto fell asleep, happy to be alive. For he knew that tomorrow, the sun would shine again.

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I hope y'all liked it.

Fin.


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